


In This Lifetime

by 10moonymhrivertam



Category: Sherlock (TV), Wicked - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Gen, Reincarnation, Tumblr Fic, but if i make it shippy, cracky concept, edited tumblr fic, i personally use & for platonic relationships and / for romantic or sexy ones, poorly executed concept, slightly cracky, so for now it's platonic, then remind me to change the relationship tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 01:21:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4459808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/10moonymhrivertam/pseuds/10moonymhrivertam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes has always been unusually and exceedingly peculiar, and altogether quite impossible to describe.</p>
<p>John Watson...well, if you're at a loss for other words, there's always his hair color.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sherlock - Seven

**Author's Note:**

> So this was originally a series of posts on tumblr, and I'm not sure it was well-executed there, so I'm going to try and improve it here.
> 
> The title sounds kind of generic but I promise I pulled it from "For Good" - in fact, I pulled pretty much the whole idea out of that one line of "For Good"...
> 
> BTW, this will be largely based on my (somewhat patchy) knowledge of the musical, as when I tried to read the book, I got up to about Glinda's introduction, got fed up with the style of writing, and skipped ahead to see how they'd made Elphie dying be a bad thing.

Seven-year-old Sherlock drifted in that blank space between one dream and the next - but before the setting could change, a green-skinned teenage girl with a black tank-top, a blue skirt, a black pointed hat, and glasses approached him. She looked weary and lost, as though she had been walking a very long time.

“Hello. Mind telling me who you are?” she asked, her smile tired but kind.

“My name’s Sherlock,” he answered, staring up at her. He was distantly aware that he usually felt more furtive when he didn't use his first name, but before he could really wonder about it, he was already writing it off to himself as an aspect of the dream. He dismissed the lack of his usual stranger anxiety the same way.

“Well, I’m Elphaba. Pleased to meet you,” she smiled, holding out a hand. Sherlock took it. Suddenly, a rush of memories filled him - lifetime upon lifetime, starting with an outcast, green-skinned girl's. 

When the memories finished, Sherlock was left staring at Elphaba. When Sherlock finally spoke, it was to voice an observation.

“You’re scared of the water. That’s just like me.”

“Yes, Sherlock,” she grinned. “Except, here, there’s nothing to fear from it,” she assured him, even as an image from Elphaba's first set of memories of Dorthy's fatal attempt at fire-fighting flashed through his mind. 

“Your mother's managed to coerce you into the bathtub before, hasn’t she?” Elphaba pointed out as she caught on to his line of thinking, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. Sherlock nodded slowly.

“Alright," Elphaba smiled softly. "Well. It was lovely to finally find you, Sherlock. It's nice to feel alive again. Speaking of...keep an eye out for Glinda, won't you? I'm sure she'll be feeling guilty, and she'll be worrying about us."

“How will she know we're here? How do _we_ know _she's_ here? And - what do you think she'll be like?" Sherlock demanded.

Elphaba seemed quite prepared for his questions, and answered them readily. 

"The same way _I_ know _she's_ here - magic powers," Elphaba said teasingly. Sherlock crossed his arms and scowled up at her and she laughed. "I'm sorry, Sherlock, I know you don't like teasing." Elphaba apologized before collecting herself for some exposition: "It's a feeling. I assume it's an aspect of my magic. I can usually tell who'll be there, like Nessa or Fiyero or Dorothy - they all show up a lot. And this time, I feel - different. We're going to have Glinda back. And we can make everything right this time," Elphaba breathed.

"Okay," Sherlock said slowly, assimilating this information. "But what'll she be like?" Sherlock repeated.

Elphaba laughed.

"Blonde," she declared, her voice filled with confidence and tainted with no small amount of disdain.


	2. John - Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's first meeting with Glinda

Nine-year-old John was dreaming - it was a nightmare, actually. He hated this nightmare but he couldn't seem to avoid it.

There'd been a mix-up at the baby store and now his parents were finally going to sort it out - get their real boy. John tried to prove he was theirs, that he was real, that it didn't matter if he'd been meant to be someone else's because he'd been with them for _nine whole years_ , and -

"Oh, now this just won't do!" a high voice suddenly tittered, and every figure in the dream turned to look at its source. "Mix-ups can be the best thing that ever happen to you, you know! Just because they're unexpected doesn't mean they're nightmare material!" the blonde teenager declared, smiling pearly white teeth at John. Her white clothes and floppy hat made her look soft and approachable, like a bunny or a cloud, and John rushed to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, just wanting the nightmare to _go away_.

The nightmare melted away and John gasped as a reel of memories unspooled in his mind. When John pulled away enough to look up at her face, she smiled and got down on his level.

"I'm what you used to be. But I changed and grew and now I'm you. So since we can't be Galinda anymore....who are we now?" she beamed sunnily at him.

"But I'm littler than you!" John protested, rather than giving his name. Galinda laughed - the sound was as delicate as the chime of a small bell.

"Only on the outside. Here, I think," she said, gently poking him in the chest above his heart, "you're bigger. So what's your name?" Galinda continued.

"'M John. John _Watson_ ," he added firmly upon remembering the topic of his recent nightmare.

"Alright, Mr. Watson. Would you do a favor for me?" Galinda replied.

"What do you need?" he asked.

"I need you to make sure that Elphie isn't lonely this time. That _we_ listen to her, no matter what _anyone_ else says," Galinda said, her voice suddenly much more firm and serious than it had been.

"I can do that," John agreed.

"I know it's mean to say I'm not sure you can do it, but - well - Elphie's always been exceedingly peculiar. You sure you can promise to listen no matter what?" Galinda asked, half-hugging him and looking him in the eyes.

John nodded fervently.

"Cross my heart and hope to die," he parroted the words of serious children everywhere. "But.....how will I know who she is?" John asked, suddenly worried he might let Galinda down by not realizing Elphaba was right in front of him.

"I'll help you," Galinda promised. "My magic will tell me when it's her. I won't let you pass her by."

Galinda hugged John and then stood. "I'll be in your head, if you need me. But I think it's time for you to get up and get some breakfast," Galinda smiled, tapping a finger against John's nose.


End file.
